


200 years ago

by akaihoshi



Series: As The Years Go By [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: M/M, an introspection on the nature of Ike's relationship with Soren, but not really, isaac and soren travel to gallia, kind of beta read, onesided ranulf/ike, ranulf's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:06:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22909831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaihoshi/pseuds/akaihoshi
Summary: Soren tried and failed multiple times to say something in response, but he averted his gaze instead. Having this sort of conversation with the one person he had been certain Ike would choose all those years ago… it made him ache with emotions he didn’t want to name.“Ah well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. If he’s anything at all like Ike then you’re probably the center of his whole world. Hard not to fall for a guy like that, huh?” Ranulf chuckled.Soren frowned. Center of his whole world? Soren had never doubted the fact that Ike loved him, but… the phrasing seemed a bit… much. Surly it was Ike who was the center of Soren’s world, not the other way around. Ike had had so many other options.Like the cat beside him...“What are you talking about? To Ike, you were his only option. Don’t… tell me you didn’t know that?” Ranulf asked.---The epilogue to the 99th year.
Relationships: Ike/Senerio | Soren
Series: As The Years Go By [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1104054
Comments: 22
Kudos: 78





	200 years ago

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm supposed to be working on Blossoms, but this just had to come out first because it was sitting in the back of my head and distracting me. I seriously wrote like 7k of this in one sitting. 
> 
> It's not exactly how I wanted it to be, but most of that is because I like to write in third person limited and that's, well, limited. I love writing Ike when he's not being strong and hero-like because he just feels so human to me in those moments and I really love that. Unfortunately, I don't get to write THAT much of it in this fic if only because it's all from Ranulf's perspective.

It took six months to reach Gallia from Daein. Traveling by foot was definitely not the fastest method but Isaac insisted on stopping to see everything and that meant to caravans or boats. He referenced Soren’s war journals like a travel guide, marveling at landmarks as they came across them and throwing questions at his companion faster than Soren could answer them.

It was therapeutic, in a way. Soren had tried not to think about the past after Ike’s death, and yet he had somehow trapped himself in it. Every time Isaac’s eyes lit up with excitement over finding another landmark he’d only ever read about, Soren felt as though his own memories were being recolored - brightened into something he could think about fondly.

He hadn’t wanted to visit Gallia - his fondness for beasts was rather limited after all - but Isaac had insisted. It was on the way to Goldoa, and he’d never seen cat Laguz before. There were only branded in Arcadia with the occasional Wolf or Falcon visiting from the north. That made it hard to say no.

Besides, it bought Soren a bit more time to work up his nerve to finally face his… Mother. And his baby brother. 

That felt weird to say.

Castle Gallia peeked into view just above the sea of trees as they reached the top of a small hill that overlooked a rather familiar valley. Isaac wiped the sweat on his jaw and let out a deep breath.

“Is that it?” He asked. Soren couldn’t help but smile at the hints of excitement simmering beneath his harmless question.

“Yes, that’s it. There should be a town nearby, but…” Soren hesitated, wondering if he should warn Isaac again to keep his expectations low. It had been a long time since he’d last visited, and even then it was with the company of Princess Elincia. He wasn’t sure how the Gallians would respond to a pair of traveling Brandeds.

“You worried?” Isaac asked. It amazed Soren just how good Isaac had gotten at being able to read him. 

“A bit,” He admitted. He knew better than to lie at this point. Isaac stole a few curious glances at him as they walked towards the entrance to the forest. Soren ignored it. His palms were sweaty enough as it was, and not from the heat.

Once safely in the shade of the trees, Isaac piped up again.

“It’s not just the Branded thing, is it?” It was phrased like a question, but it was actually a statement. When did Isaac get so perceptive? “What else is bothering you?”

Soren wasn’t sure how to respond. No matter how he planned to phrase his answer, he knew it would come out sounding all sorts of silly. Just the thought of saying it outloud was enough to make his cheeks flush.

“It’s nothing. Really. It’s… just been a long time. That’s all,” That was certainly not all and Soren could tell by the arc of Isaac’s left eyebrow that he didn’t buy it.

Soren was saved any further questions by the familiar sounds of growling. Not an aggressive growl, more like a deeper mix of a mewl and a purr twisted and spun between what was definitely Beorc language as the gates of town came into view, followed by a bustling marketplace.

Isaac slipped his fingers between Soren and gave him a soft tug.

“C’mon,” He said with a small grin.

Soren let himself be pulled along, weaving in and out of the shopping beast tribe in various states of their transformation. His nervousness eased quickly, calmed by the gentle warmth of Isaac’s hand. He noted the odd curious glances thrown their way, but sensing no hostility, wrote them off as nothing more than glaces of the local population aimed at the antics of tourists. He supposed the sight of Isaac burying his face in a chunk of freshly roasted meat with an appetite visibly unlike that of normal Beorc would be quite the spectacle. 

Although… it was hard to shake the feeling that perhaps these Laguz simply hadn’t realized who - or rather, what - they were yet…

Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. Before he could so much as turn to see the potential threat, a large mess of brown and blue hurled itself at Isaac’s back.

“IKE!” 

It was a familiar voice. One Soren had hoped not to hear and yet… there it was, almost six feet of lean muscle, messy pale blue hair clad in leather and coiled around Isaac’s neck like a tight winter scarf.

Isaac had nearly spat out his mouth full of meat in surprise. He pounded his chest a few times as he choked down what he could and tried to shrug off his assailant.

“Let go, Ranulf,” Soren scolded, “You’re choking him.”

Ranulf at least had the sense to look apologetic as he let himself off of Isaac’s back. It doesn’t diminish the huge grin on his face, though.

But that grin does fade a little when Isaac finally managed to turn around and face him. There was a moment of confusion, followed by disbelief, and finally a panicked request for answers as he realized he just tackled a total stranger.

“Ah! Uh, sorry. You um, totally look like someone I knew. Once. From behind,” Ranulf rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “Uh, anyway, hey Soren! Long time no see! Who’s your…” Ranulf looked Isaac up and down, “Friend…?”

“You know each other?” Isaac asked, once again more of a statement than a true question. Soren let out a deep sigh.

“Yes. Isaac, this is Ranulf, an old…” How did he want to describe him? “...friend from the war. Ranulf, this is my traveling companion. Isaac.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Ranulf said under his breath, “So you just got here then. Got any place to stay?” 

Soren did not like where the conversation was headed.

“Not yet,” Isaac said before Soren could hijack the conversation, “We were going to stay at the Inn. Would you mind showing us how to get there?”

Soren bit the inside of his cheek.

“I’ll do you one better than that!” Ranulf said with a loud cackle and a slap on Isaac’s back, “I’ve got a certain lion friend who would just  _ love _ to see the both of you.”

“Huh? Really?” Isaac was smiling, moreso at the prospect of meeting more cat Laguz than Ranulf’s invitation, but the sight still made Soren a bit sick. 

“Yeah. Dinner and the best beds in Gallia. Free of charge!” That no-good, brown-nosing, scheming, smooth-talking rat of a cat...

“That’s awfully generous…” At least Isaac had the good sense to be wary of such an offer. 

“Well, I’ve got ulterior motives,” Ranulf said, throwing a friendly arm around Soren’s shoulders, “I haven’t seen this guy in  _ ages _ ! We’ve got a lot to catch up on, and who  _ knows _ when I’ll see him again!”

Soren was too stunned to express the horror he felt upon hearing those words.

“Yeah that’s true. It’ll probably be a long time before we make it back here,” Isaac mused, “Alright then. Lead the way, uh… Ranulf.” Soren cursed under his breath. Of all the times for Isaac to be dense, it just had to be at this very moment.

Ranulf let out a delighted laugh.

And Soren let out a resigned groan.

\-----

If he excluded the bone crushing bear hug he received from Skrimir upon their arrival, Castle Gallia was actually a fairly tolerable place… although he would also have to ignore the fact that Skrimir and Ranulf had decided to throw an impromptu feast full of far too many people, too much food, and twice the amount of acceptable noise.

Ranulf hadn’t spent more than a few minutes in Isaac’s company, much to Soren’s relief, since Skrimir had taken an immediate liking to him the moment Isaac asked him about his younger years. He was delighted to have someone new to recount his tales of heroism to, and quickly whisked him away across the room to a mound of floor pillows to talk of times long passed. Many young Laguz joined them shortly after he began, excited to hear their King talk of the war that changed the face of Tellius forever and the legendary heroes he fought alongside. 

Soren watched them fondly for a time, sipping his wine from a slightly less crowded section of the feast hall. 

“You’re not going to join him?” Ranulf asked, taking a seat on the floor beside him. Soren furrowed his brow.

“Your King is loud enough that I can hear him just fine from where I am,” He said warily. Ranulf let out a short but genuine laugh.

He’d aged, certainly. His blue hair was streaked with silver and there were lines near his eyes that Soren didn’t recognize. His jawline had squared up a little, his smile still full of laughter and youthful energy, but it was accompanied by fresh creases. Ranulf had been at least fifty years his senior when they met for the first time but… how long did the cat Laguz live for? He couldn’t remember.

“You’ll make me blush if you keep staring at me like that,” Ranulf cooed with a sideways glance. Soren didn’t bat an eye at the playful flirtation.

“You’ve aged,” He said bluntly. Ranulf snorted into his glass, coughing and laughing while he tried to swallow.

“And you haven’t changed a bit,” Soren knew he meant nothing bad by it, but that didn’t stop that small twinge from twisting in his gut. Soren barely looked a day over 20 and would remain that way for perhaps a few hundred years more.

Ranulf would be gone by then. 

They sat in unfamiliar but comfortable silence for a while - or as silent as could be expected given the din of the party around them and the booming enthusiasm of Skrimir’s voice retelling stories he never tired of. Soren was prepared to spend the rest of the evening simply watching Isaac enjoy himself but Ranulf’s presence still made him uneasy. 

Even more so when he finally broke the silence with his burning question.

“Ok, I gotta know,” He said, voice low and unusually serious, “Who’s the guy?”

“I already introduced you,” Soren glanced at him, then back at his goblet.

“No, I know that but…  _ who is he _ ? He looks just like - I mean, he even kinda smells like him. But it’s not… him…” Ranulf fidgeted with the tassels of the floor pillow, “...right?”

“It’s not,” Soren confirmed, unwilling to give unprompted details.

“Then why does he…? I mean, for a minute there I thought you mastered the art of necromancy-” Ranulf stopped mid-sentence under the weight of Soren’s glare, “C’mon, I didn’t mean it like…” He sighed, “You gotta admit the likeness is uncanny…”

Soren would not deny that. He’d thought the same thing once.

“He’s Stefan’s son,” Soren finally said, “I met him by chance when I was recovering from an injury that left me blind.”

“Blinded by love eh-?” Ranulf smirked.

“No, literally blind,” Soren retorted.

“Oh…”

“I didn’t know what he looked like for months,” And that was all Soren was willing to give. Ranulf would have to content himself with that.

“Oh…” Ranulf muttered again, “Wow… then that must have been a shock?” 

Soren blinked in surprise. That wasn’t at all what he expected Ranulf to say.

“That’s… putting it mildly,” He said quietly. He jumped at the feeling of Ranulf’s hand running soothing circles on his back.

“And you fell anyway, huh?” Ranulf said with the strangest hint of awe. Soren’s head whipped around to look at him, “I didn’t think it was possible. I’m happy for you, ya know?”

Soren tried and failed multiple times to say something in response, but he averted his gaze instead. Having this sort of conversation with the one person he had been certain Ike would choose all those years ago… it made him ache with emotions he didn’t want to name.

“Ah well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. If he’s anything at all like Ike then you’re probably the center of his whole world. Hard not to fall for a guy like that, huh?” Ranulf chuckled. 

Soren frowned. Center of his whole world? Soren had never doubted the fact that Ike loved him, but… the phrasing seemed a bit… much. Surly it was Ike who was the center of Soren’s world, not the other way around. Ike had had so many other options. 

Like the cat beside him...

“What are you talking about? To Ike, you were his  _ only  _ option. Don’t… tell me you didn’t know that?” Ranulf asked.

It took almost a full minute for Soren to realize he had said his thoughts out loud. 

“But you… I thought…” Soren sputtered, too flustered over his previous error to form anything coherent.

“You thought…? Oh. Ohhh. Oh wow, um. Wow, that’s uh…” Ranulf coughed awkwardly into his fist, “Sorry, I thought… I mean, I never… Ok that’s not true, I did but then I didn’t… Aw, shit,” He ruffled his tousled blue hair and met Soren’s confused gaze, “It wasn’t like that, Soren. Maybe it was for me a little bit for a while, but then… it wasn’t? I mean, I can’t blame you for thinking that way - I thought I had a shot at one point, but then things just… I realized some things.”

Soren was certain his bafflement was plastered all over his face judging by the way Ranulf sighed. He stared quietly at his food for a few moments before speaking again, this time with coherency.

“Do you remember that ambush just before we hit Sienne?” Ranulf asked. 

“Of course not,” Soren snorted, “I was unconscious for most of it.”

Realization dawned on him slowly as Ranulf smiled.

“Yeah. Maybe it wasn’t anything unusual for you - uh, minus your near-death experience - but for the rest of the army… That was the day we met General Ike for the first time.”

\-----

They came out of nowhere, clad in white armor and armed to the teeth, well supplied and toting ample reinforcements. The Laguz Alliance hadn’t stood a chance, but with nowhere to run they were forced to fight.

Ranulf felt sick to his stomach with every soldier that fell to his claws. When would it end? So many of them had fallen with no end in sight. Even Ike, holding his own on the front lines, was beginning to slow down.

They had to regroup. Soren had said as much the second the first enemy soldier had been sighted and sent the birds off to scout out an escape route, but the lack of news from the skies meant that there was no clear path to safety.

They would have to fight their way out. 

He smelled the magic on the wind before he caught the flash of light from Soren’s tome. How he got separated from Ike, Ranulf couldn’t fathom. His tome looked spent, his breathing quick and knees shaking from exertion with nothing but a simple silver knife left to defend himself with.

Ranulf cursed through his fangs and rushed towards him. He crushed two more knights before taking a blow to the stomach that sent him flying backwards and shifting back to his Beorc form. Soren held his own well enough, speed making up for his lack of physical strength, but there was no way he’d be able to take out all his assailants and everyone else was too far away to assist. 

Ranulf shifted forms, limbs aching and the laguz stone around his neck burning from overuse.

If Soren fell, the army wouldn’t stand a chance against the full might of Begnion. They needed his skills, his tactics. It was the primary reason he was supposed to be fighting at Ike’s side.

There was no safer place to be on the battlefield than there.

He had barely taken a single step when he spotted the glint of a lance behind the sage. He tried to shout, but he wasn’t fast enough.

A harrowing scream of Soren’s name tore through the battlefield as the lance pierced Soren through the stomach.

Ranulf felt his own heart stop.

A heavy golden blade split Soren’s assailant in half in one swing, drawing an arc of blood as it cut down the next, and the next and the next. Ike moved like a man possessed, caked with blood and dirt and eyes alight with fury Ranulf had only seen mirrored in the eyes of the Mad King himself.

With the immediate threat dispatched, Ike dropped to his knees, face twisted in pain, concern, and perhaps… panic? His fingers trembled, gentle against Soren before he screamed for a medic.

Mist was beside him in a manner of seconds, Ranulf a mere moment after that.

“Get him out of here,” Ike commanded, voice in a low, furious rumble. 

“How!? There’s no where to go, Ike!” Mist cried, eyes blurry with tears and hands torn and bleeding from over-using her staff. Ranulf shifted back to his Beorc form, helping Ike to remove the spear so Mist could close the wound. 

“Then stay behind me,” Ike said. He stood, blood soaked blade in hand, “...Keep him safe.”

An unpleasant shiver went down Ranulf’s spine. What should have been a plea in any other scenario came out more like a threat. He lifted Soren up and onto Mist’s horse.

“Don’t worry about the enemies, I’ll take care of it. Just focus on healing, alright?” Ranulf tried to reassure her.

She nodded, closing her eyes and chanting quietly to stem the flow of blood.

Whatever weariness Ike had been showing vanished in an instant. The air around him crackled with hostility and rage. His enemies seemed to fall before he so much as lifted his blade.

The Hawks returned as the enemies dwindled in number and though they called to lead the army through a safe route, Ike paid them no heed, leaving the rest of the army no choice but to follow their commander. 

They rallied behind him and rushed the enemy forces head on.

Finally, the reinforcements stopped coming.

\-----

Ranulf was shaken. He’d never seen Ike like that before. He’d never known him to be anything less than genuinely merciful, even on the battlefield, and yet…

Ike had led a small group to pursue the stragglers while the rest of the army set up camp and tried to recover. That in itself was unusual as Ike was usually against pursuing those who would retreat. Part of him had wanted to follow Ike, but the General had ordered him to escort Mist and Soren back to camp. Ranulf knew better than to argue.

He stole a glance through the flap of the medical tent. Soren’s wound had closed - at least from what he could see - but Mist was still hard at work. Surface wounds were simple things, but this… this was on an entirely differently level. The lance had pierced his stomach completely. He was likely suffering from internal bleeding and organ damage. That was difficult to treat even for the most skilled of clerics.

Mist looked spent, on the verge of tears trying to force the energy from her staff while Rhys tried to coax her away from Soren’s pale, bloodied form. 

“Mist, you’re exhausted. Let me take over, please!” Rhys begged her quietly, a fresh mend staff in hand. She finally relented, collapsing against her battered staff as Rhys began to chant in her place. 

Ranulf let the flap close and leaned back against a support beam with a deep sigh. 

The sun had set. Ike would be back shortly.

No sooner had he thought it did the scent of fresh blood touch his nose. It was proceeded by the soft thuds of Beorc feet and soon Ike and the rest of the pursuit party came into view. 

“Ike!” Ranulf moved to meet him, relieved to see him unharmed, but he immediately drew back. Ike’s mood was still foul, the rage he’d seen him wield on the battlefield still simmering just beneath the skin.

Ranulf swallowed his words and watched in silence as Ike brushed passed him and into the medic tent.

Titania dismounted nearby looking utterly exhausted. Ranulf caught her eye and she offers him a sigh and a small shake of her head. A subtle, “don’t ask,” but he did it anyway.

“Titania, what…  _ happened _ out there?” Ranulf asked.

She hesitated, stroking her horse’s nose and neck.

“You’d better keep your distance from him for a while,” She said after a long stretch of silence.

“What?!  _ That’s _ all you’ve got to say?  _ Keep your distance _ ?! How could I possibly leave him alone right now!? Did you  _ see  _ him out there!? He was like a-” A monster, Ranulf wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Titania looked at him with her usual brand of patience.

“Ike’s not as strong as you think he is,” She said calmly.

“What’s that supposed to mean…?” Ranulf scowled, “He nearly drove back that entire brigade  _ by himself _ !” 

“And where do you think that strength came from?” She snapped, then immediately collected herself, “Strength comes in more than one form. It’s not just about brute strength.”

Ranulf tsked her under his breath and crossed his arms. Ike? Emotionally weak? Was she talking about the same Ike that kept his level headed demeanor and never once shed a tear or asked for time to himself? The same Ike that rose to every expectation placed upon him without question or complaint? 

What a load of crock.

“Sometimes I think we forget,” Her words jerked Ranulf from his musings, “Just how young he is.”

Ranulf’s ears pricked up at that.

“Barely twenty years old and never given a chance to be what he wants to be. Just… what does that kind of pressure feel like I wonder…” She said, casting a knowing sideways glance towards him and his twitching tail.

She left before Ranulf could digest her words fully. Somehow they’d left him with more questions than answers.

He glanced towards the tent flap and lifted it slightly.

His heart twisted painfully at the look on Ike’s face. Downcast, lost, and pale… they were not words he would use to describe his General and yet, they fit him in that moment. Rhys spoke to him too quietly for Ranulf to hear, but the longer he spoke the more Ike’s hands trembled. The one part Ranulf did hear, was that Soren’s life was out of danger. He only needed some rest and he’d be back on his feet soon enough.

Ike’s face remained unchanged. He looked both old and far too young at the same time and so very, very small. He lifted a clean hand and gingerly drew it against Soren’s cheek with gently touch that was completely uncharacteristic of him.

Renulf let the tent flap close again as his heart felt a sharp pang of envy.

If he was in Soren’s place… would Ike look at him that way too...?

He took his time walking back to the center of camp, lost in his thoughts.

\-----

“No,” Ike growled from across the war room table. 

“Ike,” Titania said quite clearly trying to restrain her temper, “We can’t stay camped here any longer. The enemy is bound to ambush us again and soon. We have to get moving.” The occupants of the tent nodded and murmured their assent.

“I said no,” Ike all but snarled at her.

“Ike, be reasonable -” Ranulf said in a poor attempt to persuade the irritable general. 

Ike slammed his fist on the table with enough force to crack it.

“We move when I say we move,” Ike said lowly. He crossed the room and paused only at the tent flap, “We’re staying put,” And then he left.

Ranulf let out a long exasperated groan.

“Well this is just getting ridiculous,” Tibarn grumbled, “We’ve been here for three days! The men are getting restless…” 

“I’m not sure what else we can do,” Titania sighed, “Like it or not, it is his decision.”

“He is no General. He is a coward,” Skrimir bellowed, “I am no coward, I will lead this army instead.”

“Easy, Tiger,” Ranulf said with a troubled laugh, “You can’t just… declare yourself the General. It doesn’t work like that.”

“Then how does it work? Tell me and I will do it,” Skrimir seemed unusually keen. Ranulf wasn’t sure how to respond. Luckily, Titania did it for him.

“Ike would have to be declared unfit to command,” She said.

“Then it is already done!” Skrimir exclaimed with a satisfied smirk, “Ike is a coward and therefore unfit to command!”

“That’s not… no, Skrimir, look, if someone’s unfit for command, it means that they’re either gravely injured, or… I dunno, mentally unstable,” Skrimir opened his mouth to retort but Ranulf immediately cut him off, “ _ and _ you have to prove it. And no, calling him a coward for not letting the camp mobilize does not count as proof.” Skrimir clicked his tongue and frowned.

“I hate to say this but… Skrimir kind of has a point,” Tibarn said, “If Ike won’t let us march, then he’s putting us in danger and we’re losing valuable time. A temporary shift in the chain of command might be for the best…”

“Oh come on, Tibarn! You don’t mean that,” Ranulf swallowed his unease, “I mean, I know the guy’s been a little off the past few days but-”

“No, Ranulf, he’s right,” Titania pinched the bridge of her nose, “It… would be in everyone’s best interests is Ike… took a little break.”

“Then we are agreed! Excellent, then I shall-” Tibarn interrupted Skrimir almost immediately.

“Not so fast. We still have to prove he’s unfit to command and  _ then _ we can discuss who will be taking his position while he uh… recovers.” Tibarn crossed his arms and threw a sideways glance at Reyson who had been silent throughout the entire debate.

Reyson caught Tibarn’s glance and rolled his eyes.

“I suppose you’d like to ask if I’ve noticed any changes in his thoughts or emotions lately?” He said.

“That’s my little mind reader,” Tibarn cooed in a playful tone only to receive a painful elbow to the stomach in return, “I think everyone would accept your word as proof enough.”

“Well then, you’re out of luck. Ike’s mental state isn’t any more or less stable as it was a week ago. He is… decidedly upset and in a terrible mood which is quite understandable given the circumstance, but if you’re asking me if there’s anything unusual or concerning, there isn’t,” Reyson sighed.

Ranulf frowned. Nothing unusual? How could that be? Ike’s behavior was definitely unusual, what with his constant snapping, harsh words, and overall dictating approach to his command. Most of the camp was too afraid to get near the usually approachable general after witnessing a couple of shocking and violent outbursts that sent several soldiers to the medical tent.

If that wasn’t a symptom of some form of mental instability, Ranulf wasn’t sure what was.

“You’re sure?” Ranulf asked.

“Quite sure,” Reyson responded. 

“That cannot be!” Skrimir growled, “Surly there is something. If there is not, then why will he not allow us to march?!” 

Ranulf was inclined to agree.

“Sorry Reyson, but I don’t buy it. Ike hasn’t been himself lately, I mean, just  _ look _ at him!” Ranulf insisted.

Reyson regarded him cooly. How a stare from such a fragile person could instill such intimidation, Ranulf would never know.

“If you say he hasn’t been himself lately, then,” Reyson stepped towards Ranulf looking him square in the eye, “Who exactly do you think he is? He’s not invincible, and he’s certainly not above throwing a little tantrum now and again.”

Obviously frustrated with Ranulf’s lack of understanding, Reyson clicked his tongue.

“You need only give him time. He needs rest and reassurance that none of us are able to give, so all we can do is wait,” He glided to the entrance of the tent and glanced over his shoulder, “He’ll give the order to march in a few days, I’m certain of it.” And with that, he shifted into his feathered form and took flight. Tibarn called after him and followed suit.

Titania stood and stretched looking more tired than she had in weeks.

“I hope he’s right,” She said quietly.

Ranulf hoped so too.

\-----

As the days went by, the number of Ike’s casualties increased. Most were the result of a thorough tongue lashing, several more were from those foolish enough to challenge Ike to a sparring match, and the rest were the results of Ike’s fist meeting someone’s face over some poorly chosen Laguz-targeted slurs. 

Ranulf was at his wits end.

He’d tried to reason the meaning behind Reyson’s words, but after wracking his brain and reaping no results, he tossed it aside hoping to find other solutions. Surely there had to be options other than letting him be? Was rest really all Ike needed?

He wasn’t so sure.

Usually he’d try to consult Soren as there were few who could provide insight as meaningful and blunt as he could, but the staff officer was still unconscious in the medical tent. His injury had been rather severe and while Mist and Rhys were certain that the danger had passed, they were less confident about when he would wake up.

So of course, consulting him was out of the question.

Finally out of ideas after exhausting his mental options, Ranulf came to a singular conclusion.

Ike was probably just stressed and in need of relief.

Ranulf was only familiar with two methods of relieving stress: the first was exercise - sparring, swimming, chores - anything to get the body good and tired. 

The second was sex.

Of the two, sex was Ranulf’s preferred way to decompress when he was stressed. He often spent nights with Kyza, Skrimir and even Lethe when she was in the mood, and it always left those involved feeling far better by the following morning.

So that was an option.

It would be a lie to say Ranulf hadn’t thought about inviting Ike on those nights. He had thought - or perhaps fantasized - about it numerous times. But Ike wasn’t nearly as easy to approach as his fellow Laguz. He always backed out at the last second. Maybe it was because of the way Ranulf’s heart beat whenever he opened his mouth to ask the question. It never did that with his other partners.

Besides, Ike rarely seemed as though he needed to blow off steam. He was always pretty steady and stable. Perhaps this sudden… moodswing of Ike was a good opportunity.

It was dinnertime so of course the center of camp was crowded with a swarm of hungry bellies, but that didn’t stop Ranulf from being able to spot that familiar shock of blue hair. It was a bit of an impressive feat given how far from the campfire he was sitting with no one else around him. 

Ranulf took a deep breath, and fought his way towards the solitary general.

Ike did not look up from his untouched stew even when Ranulf cleared his throat. Not easily deterred, the Laguz plopped himself beside Ike in the most awkwardly casual way possible.

How did one start a conversation again?

His tail twitched nervously.

“Hey,” He finally said, forcing a friendly smile. It got Ike’s attention, albeit very little of it. A quick glance and Ike was back to staring blankly at his bowl.

It was awkward. 

Really awkward. 

Ike was certainly in no mood to chat. Ranulf was usually quite gifted with small talk, but his mouth felt a bit dry and stiff.

“So uh,” He stumbled out after a couple of failed attempts, “I was thinking-”

“We march when I say we march,” Ike grunted. 

A response! That was progress.

“Ah, no, I wasn’t going to ask about that, actually,” Ranulf said with a small laugh. Ike looked at him but didn’t turn his head. 

“Then what do you want?” Ike asked. 

Ranulf winced at his tone. He was used to a gruff Ike, but this was a bit hostile.

“I uh… thought that maybe… you might like to blow off some steam?” Ranulf managed to say without stuttering.

“...Blow off some steam,” Ike repeated slowly.

“Yeah, you know…” Ranulf swallowed hard. He hoped he wasn’t talking too loudly because he couldn’t hear a damn thing over the sound of his heartbeat, “We can just… relax.”

Ike’s expressionless face creased with confusion.

“Just you and me,” Ranulf purred, boldly sliding his fingers along Ike’s thigh, “And a bedroll.”

Ike caught Ranulf’s hand in a vice-like grip.

“That’s what you call, ‘blowing off steam’?” Ike’s voice rumbled with thinly veiled rage.

Ranulf felt his blood run cold.

“H-hey, take it easy, Ike! I was just-” 

“You were just what?” Ike snapped, releasing Ranulf’s wrist with enough force to knock him over, “You just  _ what _ , Ranulf?”

“I was just trying to help!” Ranulf snapped back and immediately regretted his decision.

“That’s what you call help?! Do you just go around to everyone who looks stressed and ask them if they wanna ‘ _ blow off steam _ ’?!” Ike was on his feet staring down disdainfully. It was difficult for Ranulf to hold his gaze.

“Of course I don’t! Is that what you think of me!?” Ranulf bristled in indignation.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Ike snarled, “You’re loose enough to sleep with half your commanding officers.”

Ranulf was speechless.

“Wow…” He choked out.

For a moment, although his face was cast in shadow, Ike’s face looked quite pained. His jaw was clenched tight like he was biting back a slew of bitter words, but he doesn’t let them loose. 

Instead, he turns abruptly and disappears into the crowd of diners without so much as a backwards glance.

Ranulf presses his palms to his eyes in an attempt to stop the sting.

\-----

“That’s it, I quit,” Mia groaned as Rhys chanted a healing spell for her arm, “I can’t spar with the Boss anymore.”

“You lack passion, Mia!” Kieran bellowed boldly from his seat beside her. Mist rolled her eyes and continued applying the vulnerary to his ankle, “Where’s your fighting spirit?”

“Fighting spirit, huh? Then why don’t you take him on again, tough guy? You seem to be full of it,” She chided. Kieran’s eyes widened.

“Uh, well, I uh, you see,” He fumbled, “I make it my mission to only challenge a foe once per day! And I already challenged him this morning, you see!”

Mist let out an amused snort.

“I told you not to fight him. My stupid brother doesn’t know his own strength, especially without Soren around to hold him back,” She gave Kieran’s knee a good slap as she stood up.

“More casualties, huh?” Ranulf sighed as he entered the medical tent. He set the crate of supplies he was carrying on a nearby stack.

“Yeah. Not as bad as yesterday, though. Only these two blockheads,” Mist said while wiping her hands.

“Mist, why don’t you go help Ranulf with the rest of the crates? I’ll finish up with these two,” Rhys said with a gentle smile.

“Huh? Oh, yeah ok,” She looked at him, “Shall we, then?” He nodded and followed her out of the tent.

Ranulf never exchanged that many words with Mist. Not by choice, it just never seemed like the chance to talk ever presented itself. That, coupled with his current state of exhaustion, made it a bit difficult for Ranulf to muster up enough words to start a casual conversation.

Mist had no such problems.

“Are you alright?” Mist asked after a minute or so.

“Ah, uh, yeah. Sorta,” Ranulf said, realizing exactly how out of character his silence must have seemed, “Just had a lot on my mind lately.”

“Is it about my block-headed brother?” She asked with a quirked eyebrow. 

He sighed.

“That’s part of it,” He paused mid thought and cleared his throat, “Hey… how is it that you don’t seem worried about it?”

“Worried about what?” Mist tilted her head to the side.

“Ya know… about how your brother’s been acting,” Ranulf said rubbing the back of his neck a little embarrassed. He nearly jumped at her amused snort.

“Worried? Why would I be worried?” She laughed, “Ike’s just… being Ike.”

Ranulf blinked, perplexed.

“Sorry, I don’t follow…” He said, ears pricking curiously. 

Mist didn’t answer right away. Instead she seemed to be a bit lost in thought.

“Ranulf,” She said after a while, “How would you describe my brother?”

That was a loaded question.

“Uhh…” Ranulf felt his cheeks heat up. He swallowed a little nervously and tried to ignore his twitching tail… and the events of the previous night, “I think he’s… strong-willed, stable, sensible, honest… gentle, a bit of a bleeding heart? He’s uh… an overall great guy.” 

Mist smiled softly at him and hummed, arms behind her back.

“I guess that figures,” She said, “And I get all that… but what I didn’t hear you say was stubborn, short-tempered, reckless, careless, cocky, emotionally constipated, muscle-brained, dimwitted, clumsy or stupid.”

Ranulf laughed out loud at the stream of unexpected insults.

“Cocky muscle-brained…?” He chuckled, “That doesn’t sound like Ike at all.”

“Maybe not the Ike you know,” Mist said softly; so softly in fact that Ranulf almost missed it.

His smile dropped instantly.

“Listen,” Mist said, voice low and serious, “Everyone has this… idea of who my brother is and what he’s like. And it’s not true. Well not totally true,” She kicked a small stone with the tip of her boot, “Ike is definitely kind and honest. Too empathetic for his own good. And he is a good guy but… he’s also… really fragile.”

“Fragile…?” Ranulf repeated, “Are we even talking about the same guy?”

“Probably not,” Mist laughed, then fell quiet. “Do you… Do you remember three years ago? That time when I lost Lehran’s Medallion?”

“A bit… why?” Ranulf cocked his head to the side.

“You probably didn’t know this, but that medallion was the only thing I had left of my - our - mother. It was really important to me,” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, “When I told Ike I lost it, I started to cry and you know what he said to me?”

Ranulf shook his head.

“He said,” Mist puffed out her chest and forced her voice into a comically deep impression of her brother, “Don’t cry! I said don’t cry! I’ll find it, all right?!” 

In normal circumstances, Ranulf probably would have laughed at her poor impression, but the reaction she described… it was eerily reminiscent of Ike’s current actions. No comforting gesture for his only remaining blood relative, only harsh words. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” She said with a coy smile, “But you don’t understand. That’s how Ike’s always been to me. He’s stupid, short tempered and insensitive… He gets scared easily and lashes out… And when he gets like that, the only person who can calm him down is Soren.”

Right, Soren. It always came back to Soren, Ranulf thought bitterly.

“Ike used to get into so much trouble before Soren came along… Dad was at his wits end, you know? Ike wouldn’t listen to a thing he said, and it’s not like dad was patient so they’d always end up in a scuffle… And then Soren came, and Ike… changed,” Mist looked up at the sky with a soft, nostalgic smile, “Suddenly the stupid, reckless brother I knew became... a lot more tolerable. Less pressured… more relaxed,” She laughed.

“Then…” Ranulf hesitated with the rest of his question, “You think he’ll be like that again… when Soren wakes up?”

Mist’s smile faltered slightly.

“I hope so,” She said quietly, “Because if he doesn’t, I…” She swallowed the rest of her thought and forced herself to smile, “No use thinking about things that won’t happen, right? It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

While reassuring on the surface, Ranulf couldn’t help but feel like Mist didn’t truly believe what she was saying. 

Still, it gave him a little hope that maybe, just maybe, things would go back to normal.

Eventually.

They walked the rest of the way to the crates and back to the medic tent in silence. 

At first he thought the tent was empty, save for a single unconscious occupant, but Mist spotted the second figure before he could even enter the tent.

“Ike! I thought I told you to eat first before coming back here,” Mist scolded.

Ranulf’s fur stood on end.

“Not hungry,” Ike grunted out. Ranulf didn’t dare to enter the tent just yet, “How is he?”

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” She sighed heavily, “You’re not sleeping here again, are you? I told you, he’s fi-”

“I’m going to be here when he wakes up,” Ike left no room for rebuttal. 

“Ugh, fine,” Mist grumbled. She nearly crashed into Ranulf on her way out of the tent, “Sorry! I’m going to go grab him some food. Put the crate with the rest, ok?” She started to leave, but turned around to issue one hurried whisper, “And leave him be, ok? Soren’s with him. He’ll be fine.”

With one deep breath, Ranulf pulled back the tent flap and froze at the sight of Ike.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected to see, but the look on Ike’s face as he sat by Soren’s bedroll was a face Ranulf didn’t recognize - not entirely - and it made his insides swirl. It was gentle, sad, brow slightly wrinkled with worry. Ike’s eyes were so focused on Soren’s unconscious form that he was blind to everything else - including Ranulf’s presence. 

Ranulf’s breath hitched slightly as he noticed Ike’s fingers firmly laced between Soren’s, unwilling or perhaps unable, to let go.

He rushed to set the crate with the others and darted back out of the tent, heart racing frantically as a dozen emotions fell upon him at once.

Why did it always come back to Soren?

Even unconscious Soren somehow managed to steal Ike’s attention. The fond gazes, gentle touches, and endless patience… Ike gave it all to Soren.

Why coudn’t Mist have been wrong?

It hurt so much. That gentle, patient Ike was the one Ranulf wanted more than anything. He wanted to laugh and joke and touch and purr at Ike’s hands but… that would never happen.

The Ike that Ranulf loved only existed beside Soren.

The more he thought about it, the more Mist’s words made sense. Whenever Soren wasn’t around or at least within reach, Ike’s demeanor would shift into something Ranulf couldn’t recognize - into a person he didn’t know. 

But that violent, gruff, unrestrained brute  _ was _ Ike. He understood that now - at least in his head he did.

His heart, on the other hand, was another matter entirely.

In light of this, one thing became abundantly clear: the only one who could help Ike now, was Soren.

If only he’d wake up.

\-----

Things did not get better in the days that followed. In fact, they got worse.

Every hour that passed only made Skrimir more restless and Ranulf was exhausted from trying to calm him down. Plus his hips were far too sore to keep up with Skrimir’s desire to blow off steam.

As far as Ranulf was concerned, all his steam had been blown.

Nearly a week of being camped out in the same place had put the entire army on edge. Scuffles were common, often ending with Ike showing up out of the blue to put the participants in their place either physically or verbally. The latter more often than not as Titania, Mist and Boyd had started quietly tailing Ike in order to rein him in as quickly as possible.

Tibarn was furious with the whole arrangement, often getting into heated arguments with Reyson and leaving camp for hours to scout around with Janaff and Ulki. That left Reyson irritable and that spiraled into the rest of the Laguz feeding off of his emotions and becoming irritable and jumpy themselves. 

And seeing as Ranulf was the only sensible Laguz commander, that left him in charge of keeping them all in order and in desperate need of a nap.

So perhaps that was why he wasn’t surprised to wake up on Kyza’s lap at noon with little to no memory of the hours prior.

“Kyza…” Ranulf said hoarsely.

“Mmhmm?” Kyza hummed while absently combing his fingers through Ranulf’s hair.

“How long was I asleep?” He asked.

“Since breakfast? Only a few hours,” Kyza replied.

“And who was watching Skrimir while I was out?” Ranulf had a sinking feeling.

“Umm...”

“Kyza, where’s Skrimir?” Ranulf sat up abruptly and glanced around.

“I’m not too sure, actually. You see, I was-” Kyza’s thought was interrupted by a loud, beastly roar that broke Ranulf out into a cold sweat.

“Shit, fuck!” Ranulf swore, shifting into his beast form and racing off towards the source of the sound.

“Stand down, tiny Beorc!” Skirmir roared at Ike. 

“Scuse me, comin through!” Ranulf pushed through the crowd that had gathered around the two men.

“We’re staying put,” Ike spat through gritted teeth. Titania and Boyd were behind him, but Ranulf couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“You are a coward!” Skrimir exclaimed, “You refuse to let us march! You are not fit to lead!”

Ike growled and moved towards the young lion, but was pulled back by Boyd and Titania.

“Skrimir, calm down!” Ranulf said, shifting back to a more beorc form, “This isn’t your call to make!”

“You are  _ my _ officer! You listen to  _ me!” _ Skrimir bellowed at him. 

“I am in charge of this army,” Ike shouted with authority, “We move when I say we move!”

Before Ranulf could so much as attempt to persuade him, Skrimir lunged at Ike. Boyd and Titania dove out of the way, but Ike met him head-on. Claws sank into his forearm, but even without a blade Ike was a force to be reckoned with. He thrust his fist into Skrimir’s gut and sent him rolling backwards into the crowd, knocking over some bystanders and some crates.

Ranulf started to panic. Skrimir and Ike were the two strongest people in the entire camp besides Tibarn and he was out scouting. No one was going to be able to stop them - not without serious injuries.

Skrimir lunged again, and this time Ike was ready for him.

It was an all-out brawl. 

No one dared to move, dared to breath. The entire army watched in horror knowing that this fight could possibly end in at least one death.

Ranulf screamed for them to stop, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. In a desperate attempt to stop the fight he, Kyza, Titania, Boyd and a few others entered the ring, their sole focus to restrain their respective leader. 

And then, amidst the chaos, a single quiet voice rang out.

“Ike…?” 

And Ike froze mid-strike with Skrimir pinned beneath him.

He whipped his head around, eyes fixated on his caller and suddenly everything stopped.

“Soren!” Ike managed to say through his heavy breathing.

Ranulf could scarcely believe his eyes. 

Soren was awake. 

He was leaning heavily against a support beam for the tent, unsteady on his feet, disheveled and even paler than usual. He looked as though the slightest gust of wind would topple him.

Ike was by his side before anyone could truly process what was happening just in time to catch the wobbling tactician as his knees buckled from lack of use.

“Hey, take it easy! You shouldn’t be walking around yet,” Ike said with such gentleness that Ranulf wanted to cry out in relief. That was the Ike he knew talking. Soren, by his presence alone, had brought Ike back with nothing more than a single word.

“Ike, what… what’s going on? What happened to you?” Soren touched the fresh wounds on his arm. 

“It’s nothing. How are you feeling?” Ranulf couldn’t see Ike’s face, but somehow he could picture it from the sound of his voice.

“Nothing? It certainly doesn’t look like nothing. You’re bleeding,” Soren yelped as Ike lifted him into his arms, “Ike what are you-? Let me down, I can walk!”

“No way, you’re going right back to bed,” Ike did his best to hold the squirming tactician still.

But something in Ike’s voice caused Soren to still. 

He stared at Ike’s face, reaching out with an unsteady hand to touch his cheek. Ranulf could only imagine what sort of expression Ike was wearing to make Soren look so concerned.

“You’re the one who looks like he needs to go back to bed,” Soren muttered.

“Together, then,” Ike said in a pained voice barely above a whisper. Ranulf was scarcely sure he heard it. No one else seemed to.

They disappeared into the medical tent, spectators staring after them in disbelief. 

“What? Is that all?” Skrimir grumbled, “He was only worried about the tiny tactician?”

“Y-yes. It… seems that way,” Ranulf said, a little breathless.

“Then why not just say so!?” Skrimir grumbled again, “The tiny tactician is important! We would have understood. What is the point of these Beorc words if they do not use them?”

Kyza chuckled and rubbed small circles on the young lion’s back.

“Finally,” Titania said with a deep sigh and a small nudge to Ranulf’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Ranulf smiled back at her, “Finally.”

\-----

It was long passed dinnertime when Ranulf finally finished calming Skrimir down and stomping out some nastry rumors that had begun to spread throughout the camp. Lucky for him, Oscar had set aside a large pot of stew and bread for the night watch. He wasn’t particularly fond of stew, but Oscar’s stew had huge chunks of meat and that was something Ranulf could really sink his teeth into.

His ears pricked at the sound of rustling behind him.

“Oh,” Ike looked genuinely surprised to see him, “Uh, hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Ranulf said, trying to at least look happy to see him. Ike managed a weak smile in response, helping himself to a large loaf of bread and two enormous helpings of stew. One was likely for Soren.

Ranulf tried not to look at him, although that proved to be difficult. After a whole week of watching someone he didn’t know parade around in Ike’s skin, having the real thing back felt… odd.

In a good way.

“Hey,” Ike says after a long stretch of silence, “I’m sorry about the other night,” Ranulf looked up in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting an apology, “I didn’t mean… I mean,”

“Yes you did,” Ranulf sighed, “You meant every word.” 

Ike had the sense at least to look ashamed.

“But I didn’t mean it the way I said it,” He insisted, “Look, I know that Laguz aren’t really too particular about having fixed partners and all that, but-”

“Ike you don’t have to apologize. I get it,” Ranulf wasn’t interested in hearing the explanation. He’d much rather forget about the whole thing.

“Yes I do,” Ike said, “I do have to apologize because you’re my friend, Ranulf. And I like being your friend, and... that’s how I’d like us to stay.”

Ranulf felt a twinge of regret in his chest and an odd tightness in his throat. 

“I know I’ve been difficult the last few days, so I wanted to apologize… and to also make sure you were ok,” Ike stumbled over the words he’d never been skilled at wielding, “Are you ok?”

Ranulf felt himself smile.

This was the Ike Ranulf was in love with - the Ike that only surfaced under Soren’s influence.

The Ike he could never have. And honestly? He was starting to feel ok with that.

“Yeah,” He said calmly, “I’m ok.”

Ike smiled back at him visibly relieved. Then his stomach growled loudly and Ranulf burst out laughing.

“Get lost and go eat something,” Ranulf snickered, elbowing Ike in the ribs.

“Yeah, I gotta get back,” He balances the bowls best he can with the bread on top, “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see ya,” Ranulf waved goodnight.

His chest felt lighter than it had in weeks.

\----

Soren wasn’t quite sure what to feel. 

“Why did you tell me this?” He asked. Ranulf leaned back into the floor pillows.

“I don’t know… I guess I thought you should know,” He said.

“You wanted me to know that you propositioned Ike?” Soren reiterated, one eyebrow cocked.

“No, not that!” Ranulf rolled his eyes and then rolled over to look up at him instead, “More like… I wanted to reassure you, I guess. You always seemed so insecure when it came to him, that I just thought… you should know just how much you meant to him.”

Soren swallowed hard.

“I… see…” He stared at the reflection in his glass.

“I thought that maybe if you knew all that then you wouldn’t look so scared whenever Isaac isn’t looking at you,” Ranulf said with a soft smile. Soren’s eyes widened like he’d been caught.

“I don’t-” Soren protested.

“Yes you do,” Ranulf interjected, “You should have seen the look on your face when you two saw me. It was somethin’ else.”

Soren bit his lip.

“Listen, I just wanted you to feel a little more confident. You were really loved by Ike, and I can tell you’re really loved by Isaac,” Ranulf closed his eyes as he spoke, “And I… was in love with the Ike who loved you. So I guess that’s kind of like me loving the both of you, right? That’s three high quality men in love with you.”

For the first time that evening, Soren let out a genuine laugh.

Loud and clear - a sound few had ever heard.

“That’s absurd,” Soren said when his laughter finally subsided, “But thank you. I appreciate the sentiment, though I’m not sure I understand your methods.”

“Y-you’re welcome,” Ranulf stuttered with some sort of baffled awe. He collected himself and cleared his throat, “You know, I think I finally understand exactly what Ike saw in you…”

“Hm?” 

“What are you two talking about?” Isaac knelt beside them looking the slightest bit uneasy.

“Hey, Isaac! Skrimir done talkin’ your ear off yet?” Ranulf said with a playful lilt. 

“For now, yeah. I think the kids tired him out with their questions,” Isaac leaned into Soren and laced their fingers together in a silent claim. Ranulf smiled mischievously at the sight, “Are you two finished catching up?”

“Not really, but now that you’ve joined us, how about I tell you some stories about our dear Soren here? One hundred percent true I guarantee it!” Ranulf grinned.

“Sure, I’m up for that. Soren?” Isaac nudged Soren lightly.

“...A few stories won’t hurt, I suppose,” He smiled as he brought his drink to his lips.

“Excellent!” Ranulf exclaimed, “Then let me tell you about the time Soren rode me into battle like a noble steed!”

Soren nearly spat out his drink.

“No no no no no no! Not that one!” Soren flushed.

Ranulf’s delighted cackling filled the air.

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno if you guys know this but I really do love Ranulf. He's such a fun character and I really wish there was a pairing I liked for him (I mean I have a few I enjoy with him, but none I REALLY like).   
> But uh, I apologize for the awkward as hell scene where Ranulf hits on Ike. I honestly don't know how to hit on someone seriously without bursting out laughing. It shows.
> 
> I also kind of HC the cat laguz as being kinda poly. Not that the cats can't have fixed partners, but more like being polygamous is what they consider more normal.
> 
> Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who stuck with me throughout this whole adventure. I really hope you guys enjoy what will likely be the final installment in the 99th year's AU. It's been absolutely amazing and I've loved every minute of it. 
> 
> You guys are awesome.


End file.
